White Lady In The Sky
by soaring bubblegum
Summary: The shackles shattered and he was no more. She was gone. Pre-Battle in Karakura. Short chapters.
1. White Lady In The Sky

**This is a little something that came up today in the afternoon. I had to write it down and post it or I wouldn't have been able to continue writing the next chapter of Book of the Facts.**

**In this fic I'm going to post short texts about Bleach. By the way I do now own Bleach nor any of the characters used in here unless stated otherwise.**

**White Lady In The Sky**

"The one you have come to _save_ needn't saving."

The fake, the avatar, the image. It shimmered in the air, as its broken expression wavered. It shifted. Not real. _Not real_. How had he not noticed? She wasn't, _wasn't _here. Not that. She wasn't that. That _thing_.

The replacement misted away, leaving two figures alone in the pillar. He was feeble, that he knew. A shiver went down his spine in fear. Fear. Not a familiar feeling. Confusion, yes. Dread, yes. Fear. Not fear.

"You are left without purpose. Your journey was in vain."

Dark. It was very dark. The shackles of the horse cracked. He twitched. Rage, overbearing rage. No control left to lose. A raw scream in the night, a howl to the white lady in the sky.

"You have failed, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Something stirred in him. Help me. _Help me_. Kurosaki-kun. Yes, she used to call him. For help. A protector, that is what he was. A _failure_. The oath shivered and the shackles of the horse shattered, now brittle.

Something yelled inside him in rage. Why, he wondered. He felt nothing but hate. Unyielding hate. He tested the air, searching for her. Couldn't find _her_. Where was she? The other figure watched him uninterested, as always. He _knew_.

"Where is she?"

Closing green eyes the other figure said, "she is no more."

Horse and King melted into one and howled. She couldn't. _Couldn't_. He searched frantically for her. She must be somewhere. Where, where? _Where_.


	2. Black Lord In The Night

**Black Lord in The Night**

His rage consumed him. Burning and stabbing his entrails with hate and desperation. His White Lady was no more.

He spared the fourth sword and made a run for it. No specific destination. A _hunt_, one may call it. So he ran until his lungs protested and burned. It didn't matter.

The black man in his soul called him. _To turn back_. The white man raged with him, encouraging him to maim whatever was in sight.

A shuddering breath escaped him. He bared his teeth and ripped open the sky, creating a gate towards his home. Jumping in it, he was swallowed by whirls of spiritual energy.

He clawed at them with renewed energy until they were mere shreds. The black passage stirred in protest. Snarling at the walls he projected his rage towards them, silencing them.

Sensing his goal was near he tore the wall away. The passage shuddered and trembled in outrage. He ignored the calls and ripped open a gate.

Fresh air filled his lungs and light burnt his eyes. He inhaled deeply and noticed the King of Las Noches. His back towards him. A feral grin found its way on his face.

He gripped his black sword and lunged at him in blind rage. The man sidestepped and smiled pleasantly at him. He roared and launched towards him again. The King simply smiled all his attacks away. Mirth dancing in his eyes.

"_Where_ is she?"

He chuckled. The man actually chuckled. His eyes shifted towards the fox-like man. This one stepped aside, revealing a white figure floating behind him. The hair swayed gently in the air, creating a flowing halo of fire.

Choking a whine he made quick strides towards her.

"_White Lady_."


	3. Grey Earl In The Twilight

**Grey Earl in the Twilight**

His hand reached towards _his_ moon. Whines of desperation and affection were choked down his throat finding their deaths inside his soul.

Her eyes were _empty_. Void. Two empty pools of silver.

This was not _right_. There had been warmness before. There had been smiles before. They were empty now.

_She is no more._

So he shrieked in outrage and sadness. Mask breaking into thousand pieces, revealing yellow disbelieving eyes.

His moon, so close. Yet everything had been in vain. She was gone. The black man in his soul mourned quietly while the rampaging white one _tore_ his unconscious.

Chuckles of amusement could be heard from the silver-eyed fiend of Las Noches.

The White Lady moved her hand upwards, towards him. Palm facing the skies. Whispering promises of pride, love and underlying betrayal.

_Take my revolution._


	4. Amaranth Count in the Sun

**Amaranth Count in the Sun**

He took her hand, so small and petite and fragile, without hesitation. His eyes flickered between black and white and yellow. Somehow he still felt the black man's pleads of reason of making this _stop_.

But he couldn't, and _wouldn't_, let his moon out of his sight again. He didn't have the strength to go through this desperation _again_, as selfish as it was. His moon smiled at him, disgustingly fake and forced and _wrong_, and he found that he did not care as long as she was by his side.

The silver-eyed fiend with vulpine features grinned in glee while the unseeing one shook his head at something that he did not understand. Void eyes looked at him, past him, to the infinite. He shivered in repulse and adoration.

_White Lady._

What had they done to her? She was so _empty_, like everything that made her had just vanished into oblivion never to return. His inner white self raged at the outrage of someone tinkering around their moon's mind and soul.

Oh, he _never_ hesitated.

So he took her in his arms, child-like delight filling his heart with warmth. A relieved sigh left his lips while enclosing her. And he promptly stabbed her with his claw-like hands, mask forming on his face in twisted rage.

No, he _never_ hesitated.


	5. Byzantine Baron in the Moon

**Byzantine Baron in the Moon**

He watched in twisted fascination as his lady gazed blankly at his arm. Embedded into her soft, oh soft, flesh. Blood poured down his arm, pleasantly warm and full of life that was slipping away. _Away from his lady_. Her lips parted and red liquid coated them, making its way down her chin. She stretched them into a thin smile.

His mask stretched to accommodate a slightly weird fanged smile full of hate and devotion. He absently noted reiatsu spikes from the other black-clad ones, fighting against the bone and flesh abominations. _But we are one too_.

Snarling, he dismissed the black man and focused on his lady again. Her eyes were duller than before, the juice of life seeping out of that tiny and petite body. _How harmless, how perfect_. He retreated his hand from her body, the gaping hole and entrails beating confirmed that she was not dead. _Yet_.

Her blue stars glimmered. _Shun Shun Rikka_. Yes, he remembered now. Somewhat. He tenderly fixed their position on her hair, white-and-red mask cracking, and revealing yellow and black eyes. Her grey ones blanked out, almost leaving a carcass, the soul soaring out of the body.

His white one inside was satisfied. _Soon_. Soon they would be one. No one to stand in their way, no one. He glimpsed a sliver of recognition and affection and betrayal in his lady's eyes. He dismissed it. It could simply _not_ be, she was gone.

Embracing her closer, waiting for her to fade he noticed that the silver-eyed fiend looked…_sad_. The dark lord simply stood there, waiting for the predictions of his twisted and brilliant game come true. His lips curled and gaze pleasant.

A tiny bloodied pale hand came into his field of view. His lady was still gasping for air, _fighting_ against her fate. Why would she fight? This was best. For him, for her, for _them_. The cold hand rested clumsily, and twitching, but tenderly on his cheek. His hand met hers and enveloped it with great care while he watched her eyes closely. What he saw lifted his soul.

Understanding.


End file.
